


Body Worship

by Deisderium



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2018 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: And Then Some, Bad Puns, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happy Steve Bingo, Happy Steve Bingo 2018, M/M, Plot What Plot, Steve Rogers Gets a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:51:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/pseuds/Deisderium
Summary: Steve's not actually feeling anxious about his body, but Bucky sets out to reassure him anyway.





	Body Worship

Steve dropped his keys on the table by the door. Something onion-y was happening in the kitchen. He pushed his shoes off with his toes and kicked them underneath the table, next to Bucky's red Converse. His socks, he tossed into the hallway; he'd put them in the laundry basket later. The hardwood floor was smooth beneath his feet, warm from the sun coming in the window. 

He walked into the kitchen. "Smells good in here." 

Bucky looked up from the cutting board, where he was reducing carrots to matchsticks, the rise and fall of the knife swift and methodical. "Hope you like _coq au vin_." His hair was pulled back, but a few strands had escaped to fall loose around his face. Steve's fingers itched to push them behind his ears. 

"If you're making it, I like it," Steve said. The corners of Bucky's eyes crinkled with his smile, and Steve gave in and reached over the counter to rest his fingertips lightly on the laugh lines like he could pin them into place. 

"Careful," Bucky said. "I'm armed and dangerous." 

"Yeah, to the vegetables, maybe." Steve pulled his hand back. 

"That's me. Master assassin of radishes." 

"You can't fool me, those are carrots."  

"That's what I like about you, Rogers, you're the observant type." 

Steve tapped his orbital bone to indicate that he had his eye on Bucky, and Bucky smiled--easily, as if it had always been easy; and joy swelled Steve's ribcage until he had to breathe through it. Bucky to come home to, easy smiles and knives used for nothing more than making good food; it was more than he had hoped for himself after he came out of the ice. 

"I'm almost done," Bucky said, not missing that Steve was having a moment.

"Don't mind me," Steve said. Bucky raised an eyebrow and turned his carrot matchsticks into tiny cubes. He added them to the pot along with whatever else he had in there, put in some seared chicken, and covered it all with wine. Steve told him about his day while he did it, and in turn, Bucky told him about his. 

Then Bucky washed his hands clean, the metal one gleaming beneath the soap, and set a timer. "We've got an hour before I have to check it, pal," he said. 

Steve leaned against the counter and folded his arms. "Yeah?" 

"I thought maybe we could do some crossword puzzles," Bucky said earnestly. "Or play a game of Monopoly." 

"If you've got to check it in an hour, we might not have time for Monopoly," Steve said. 

Bucky came around the counter and looped his arms loosely around Steve's chest, standing lopsided so he could rest his hands over Steve's heart. Steve's pulse sped up in response. "I might have some other ideas," Bucky said. 

"Yeah, but you're still gonna have to stir the pot in an hour." Steve cupped his own hands over Bucky's. 

"Now it's fifty-eight minutes, so chop chop. Get moving." Bucky licked a stripe up Steve's neck. 

"You're disgusting and I can't stand you," Steve lied. Already, his blood seemed hotter, faster-moving, as though an objective measurement in his body composition had changed. 

"You're pretty vile yourself." Bucky's fingers moved under Steve's hands, separating buttons from buttonholes down the line of Steve's shirt. Every hair on Steve's body seemed magnetized, pointing toward Bucky like tiny compass needles, every other particle of him in total agreement with them. Bucky slid his hands beneath Steve's shirt, skimming lightly over his skin, barely brushing his nipples. Steve's breath caught in a noise that might have been embarrassing if he had made it in front of anyone but Bucky. Bucky knew all his noises. 

Steve caught Bucky's hands and tugged them away. "Since we're on the clock, how about we move to the bedroom? I don't want to waste any of our fifty-eight minutes." 

"It's fifty-six now," Bucky informed him, but by then Steve was pulling on his hands, leading him back to the bedroom. 

The bed was big--they were both big guys--and heavy, solid wood beneath the mattress, and sometimes if Steve got the tight feeling in his chest that meant the weight of everything he'd left behind in the wrong century was about to crush him, he could fling himself down on Bucky's side and draw the scent of him into his lungs and be reminded that he hadn't lost everything, after all. Not what was most important. 

But right now he felt the opposite of that--he felt open, every last bit of flesh and viscera transmuted to sunshine. He let himself fall to the bed, shirt spreading open over his chest, where Bucky could look and see all that light coming out of him. 

Bucky followed, crawling over him so his torso was bracketed by Bucky's arms, and Steve was still made of light, but it was more solid now. He was aware of himself as bone and blood and skin, the contact points between Bucky's body and his own a rising fire. 

Bucky pressed a kiss against the corner of his jaw, then a line down his throat, open-mouthed and wet. Steve slid his hands under Bucky's shirt, tracing up the line of his hip bones, bringing his T-shirt with him. He tugged on the hem of the shirt. "You've got too many clothes on, Buck." 

Bucky sat back only long enough to pull his shirt over his head. Steve took the opportunity to prod him in the bellybutton so he could watch his abdominal muscles twitch. Bucky reemerged from the shirt and tossed it to the corner of the room. "I'm gone for one second, Steve." He pulled Steve up so he could divest him of his shirt too, and Steve leaned in as Bucky pulled the sleeves down his arms. Since he was right there, he licked Bucky's chest, tracing one of the scars that radiated down from his shoulder, across his pectoral muscle and to his flat nipple, stopping there for a second while Bucky pulled his hands free. Bucky's skin tasted of salt, and he smelled faintly of cooking.

" _Christ_." Bucky made a little noise of his own, then pushed Steve flat to the mattress and crawled back up him, caging him with his hands on his shoulders. Steve reached up to push Bucky's hair back behind his ear like he'd wanted to earlier. "Steve, listen. This is important. Listen, I lied earlier." Steve turned his head to meet Bucky's gaze, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. Bucky stared at him, serious and intent. "I don't think you're vile." 

Steve snorted a laugh that quickly turned into a gasp as Bucky lowered his head. His hands slid down Steve's chest, thumbs catching his nipples, drawing them into sparks of electricity. Steve arched upwards. Bucky moved his hands down the lines of Steve's ribcage and lowered his head. His hair brushed Steve's skin, whisper-light, and Steve's skin tingled in its path.

Bucky licked the hollow notch between his clavicles, his thumbs still tracing Steve's ribs. Steve's head fell backward without his meaning to, and he tilted it forward again so he could watch the path of Bucky's head moving over his body. He reached over and gently worked the elastic out of Bucky's ponytail so his hair spilled across Steve's skin like an ink drawing, dark and sinuous. Bucky's eyes flicked up to his face, a flash of pale blue, and Steve buried his fingers in Bucky's hair, sliding through the silky stands until he could work his fingers across Bucky's scalp. 

Bucky slowly licked down the center of Steve's stomach, as if he had all the time in the world, as if there was nowhere he would rather be. Steve was burning, expanding with the heat. Bucky reached up with his left hand to rub across Steve's nipple again, the metal cool and smooth, sending ripples of want through Steve's body until he could feel them in his follicles, in his toenails. His hips jerked up, towards Bucky. 

Bucky moved lower and Steve's hand fell away from his head. He pinned Steve's thigh under his left arm and dragged his right hand slowly down Steve's belly, toward the button of his jeans. 

"Not only do I not think you're vile," he announced to Steve's abdomen, "I think you're fucking amazing." 

"Engineered by science," Steve managed to huff out. 

Bucky looked up sharply at that, his hands going still. "You were fucking amazing before that, too, punk. Now there's just more amazing." 

"And more fucking?" Steve said hopefully.

 Bucky popped open the button. "Not sure how much more we could have done back then without getting arrested or dishonorably discharged, but I like to think I proved that I wasn't indifferent to your charms." He pulled the zipper down, and Steve groaned. 

Bucky pulled Steve's jeans and his boxers down his legs, slowly. Steve was naked and Bucky still half-clothed as he climbed up him again. The denim of his jeans was an almost painful friction against Steve's cock as Bucky licked his way up Steve's torso to his mouth. They kissed until Steve was writhing under Bucky's weight, and then Bucky reversed his path, kissing back down to Steve's bellybutton. 

His hand smoothed down lower, wrapping around the base of Steve's cock, and Steve moaned. Bucky smiled up at him, pushing his hair to one side of his neck, and dropped a gentle kiss on the head, polite, like they had just been introduced. 

"Buck..." Steve let a pleading note enter his voice. It wasn't difficult. 

Bucky opened his mouth and took Steve's cock in. Steve was warm and wet and made of pleasure, made to sigh and pant and beg, so he did. Bucky's mouth moved on him, his  _tongue_ , his cheeks going concave as he sucked and licked until Steve thought he could die of it. His stomach tightened, and he wished he could ride the edge of this forever, electric and beautiful in Bucky's hands, but orgasm hit him like a storm, and he came apart and was remade. 

"Bucky," he said, when he could talk, and reached down to pull him up next to him, wrapping him in his arms. He threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling his head around so he could kiss him. Bucky hummed into his mouth. 

He moved his free hand over the ridges of muscle down Bucky's abdomen, the pads of his fingertips dragging over skin, and the tenor of Bucky's hum changed, breathier, needier. 

"Yes," Steve said against Bucky's lips, and felt him smile. 

The kitchen timer went off. 

"Later," Bucky amended, and sat up. 

"Now would be good too," Steve said, but he rolled to the side so he could sit as well. 

"Coq before cock, Steve." Bucky pulled on his shirt and shot him a smile. "You can blow me after dinner." 

"Did you cook this specifically so you could say that?" Steve started pulling on his own clothes, boneless and lazy with pleasure. 

Bucky pulled him up and wrapped his arms around him, threading his arms through Steve's still-unbuttoned shirt. "I'd've married you then, if I could. Small or big, I'd take you any way I could get you, and be happy."

Steve twisted up so he could kiss him again, wordless with his own happiness and with love. But that was all right; he'd have until after they ate to figure out a way to express it. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a sex scene! Please let me know how I did. 
> 
> Coq au Vin is delicious. Here's a good sample recipe: https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1018529-coq-au-vin
> 
> (I really want to title a fic Master Assassin of Radishes, but it didn't seem appropriate for this one.)


End file.
